


Come and Get Me

by YasssGaga33 (orphan_account)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Someone dies, Swearing, for those of you who read my other stuff, its an AU, ive killed them before, request, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/YasssGaga33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began as a simple mission. Kill Dexter Grif. What it spiraled into was Simmons in the middle of a street, sobbing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/gifts).



> Yay I'm actually writing this. Listen to You Can Be the Boss by Lana Del Rey, it is PERFECT for this AU. Well later when they meet. Also spot the roosterteeth reference.

  "This is the sonova' bitch you'll be taking out." Sarge said as he threw the manilla file onto the hardwood ebony desk. Simmons adjusted his glasses and slid the file closer to him. Opening it, his eyes scanned the page, skimming through all information collected on Dexter Grif.

  Not much was there, maybe a third of a good sized paragraph. He was male, of Hawaiian descent, and in his late 20s. Simmons looked up to Sarge skeptically. "Where would I find this guy?" He asked.

  "He's big on parties. So the gala fundraiser tonight should be where he is." Donut explained from the corner. Simmons nodded pensively and slowly. 

  After a few minutes of searching through the file, Simmons found a picture of a Hawaiian man in an orange hoodie and green cargo shorts. He had stubble that littered his chin and dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was smiling and looking slightly to the left of the camera and was holding a Heineken out to whoever was taking the picture.

  Simmons let out a hum, "I'll be on the lookout for him." Sarge smiled and nodded proudly.

  "I know you'll take him down Simmons. You're my best man." He said proudly. Donut spluttered and stomped out of the room. "He'll be fine. Now go get a suit." Sarge ordered him out of the room.

  "Yes, sir." Simmons complied, taking the folder with him. He shut the door behind him with a thud and took the picture out once again.  The man stared at him through the picture.

  "I'll get you a suit." Donut cooed from the shadows. Simmons jumped and held his hand over his heart. Donut giggled. "Did I scare you?"

  "You are one creepy asshole." Simmons complained. "Anyways, you can get me a suit? I've been told I'm too skinny and my arms are too long." Simmons explained. Donut raised an eyebrow, grabbing his wrist and leading him to Donut's "fashion HQ". 

  "What's he look like?" Donut inquired when he sat Simmons down in a plush chair. The room was painted 'lightish red' and had a bed in the corner that was a plain red with light blue pillows. Hundreds of blue prints and designs of everything ranging from disguises to layouts of buildings. A tape measure hung from the bar where sheer curtains swayed.

  Simmons held out the picture to the blonde man who was leaned against a desk with a mirror attached. Donut smirked at the picture and looked up to Simmons with a lazy smile. "He's pretty good looking, don't you think?" 

  "What? No." Simmons crinkled his nose in disgust. Donut turned back to the small picture with a smile. "Shouldn't you start on the suit instead of-" 

  "When you're in my suit you just blow it... Away!" He made jazz hands and sat in a spinning chair with wheels. "Now hold still." He said scooting closer.

* * *

 

  "Ta-Da!" Donut exclaimed when he let Simmons open his eyes to see the suit that he made. 

  "It's nice. Thanks, Donut." Simmons thanked and took it away before Donut could talk about every stitch. 

  He'd finished in the nick of time, because Simmons could hear music blasting from the building the party was being held in. Simmons checked for his gun once more before entering through the doors that'd doom him forever.

  The doors that led to Grif.

  


	2. Who Does He Think He Is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love for the story already! I'm glad people like it so far.

  The lights were blinding to say the least. Though the doors to enter the  lavish building were glass, the atmosphere was more lively on the inside than the outside. Music played and excitable chatter was heard echoing in the large room. White marble tile carried  _clicks_ from heels worn by ladies.

  Simmons rolled his shoulders and set his jaw. ' _Don't get distracted._ ' he reminded himself. The air smelled of cologne and perfume mixed with faint traces of alcohol. Simmons scanned the room eyes stopping on a blue couch which was rooming more than it could handle. People were even sitting on the floor around it.

  He saw his target, older looking than the picture Simmons had revived, but in no way worn down. He was laughing, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and had the other arm stretched across the back of the couch. Simmons moved slowly towards it, sticking closer to the wall than usual.

  Simmons leaned against the bar and crossed his arms, staring out of the corner of his eye. Then Grif looked over, meeting his eyes. The room felt stuffy and his throat felt dry. Grif smirked and raided his eyebrow, winking at Simmons. Simmons scoffed and turned away. 

  He sat alone for less than Five minutes before a hand was put on his shoulder. He had to stop his hand from flying to his gun and looked over sweetly. "Can I help you?" he asked.

  It was a largely built man who smiled sweetly at Simmons. "Yeah, so my friend, Gruff wants you to come and sit with us." He said slowly. "I'm Caboose." He added on when Simmons looked past him to the group of people.

  "Sure." Simmons agreed nervously. A trait that'd unfortunately stuck with him since he was young. Caboose led him to the group where people had shifted around so there was only a spot next to Grif. "Hey, I'm Simmons." He took a breath and let a loose smile grace his lips. 

  Grif motioned over to the empty spot. "Come sit! I'm Grif, by the way." He said, his suit jacket was open and what was a neat orange bow tie was undone. Simmons nodded and reluctantly sits down, feeling Grif's arm still on the chair behind him.

  Simmons' collar felt warm, and he could feel all the eyes on him. The gun strapped to his hip felt exposed and he leaned further into the leathery material. After just a few minutes of listening to the conversation, Simmons couldn't stand these people.

  Grif was lazy, Caboose was an idiot, another man Church was an asshole, Tucker was a perv who groped the server one too many times, and then there was a girl who was referred to as Sister and nothing more. Lost in his thoughts, Simmons let out a, "What?" The grouped laughed in unison.

  "I _said_ , what do you do for work, Simmons?" Grif asked from beside him. 

  "Oh, I'm working in mechanics right now." He said. It was partly true, he convinced Lopez to let him help build a number of gadgets when he was left with nothing to do.

  A chorus of "cools" and "nice" rang into the silence He'd left. Then Tucker made a joke about how if Church died he'd make sure to let him become a robot so he could annoy him forever. Simmons felt a hand crawl onto his shoulder.

  Grif was silent when everyone was talking but held up a picture of someone familiar. Simmons' eyes widened when he realized it was a picture of him, standing with Donut, a smile on his face. Simmons reached in his pocket and pulled out the picture of Grif.

  Both men stayed quiet, but stood and began to walk away from the party. The minute nobody was in sight both guns were out and both men were staring down the sights. "So I'm your target then?" Grif asked, cocking his gun.

  "Not many professionals let their cover slip like that." Simmons commented. "How careless can you get?" Grif shrugged in response.

  "I couldn't help but notice how you so blatantly wanted to be close to me." Grif commented. "That's not very professional, you know." Simmons raised an eyebrow, regaining enough sense to cock his gun as well. Grif rolled his eyes, "You were close enough to smell what I drank before I came to this fucking party."

  " _I was not._ " Simmons seethed. Grif smirked, stepping closer so their faces were inches apart. Their guns still were against each others bodies.

  "You want to know though, right." He teased. Simmons could definitely smell the malt liquor mixed with cigarettes imprinted into his breath.

  "What's your problem?" Simmons took a step back, causing Grif to move closer. This happened until they were pressed against the wall. "Who the hell is your-" Simmons started before Grif's lips were upon his. Simmons elbowed him in the gut, he stumbled back.

  "Ill see you again, Simmons." Grif began to stroll out of the room.

  "Give me one reason not to carry out the mission, not to kill you." Simmons challenged, bringing his gun up to follow Grif's movements.

  "Because, you liked that too much." He stated, leaving the room. Simmons was shaking and lowered his gun when he was alone.

  He tried to convince himself that what Grif said was a lie. 


	3. How'd it go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, there'll be a lot of action! Ye ye ye.

  Simmons legs seemed to move on their own as he stumbled away from the party. Eyes watched his movements, even Caboose tried to get him to join the group again. He denied the offer and could feel the smirk of Grif burning into his back. 

  He wanted to die. He wished Grif  _had_ killed him so he wouldn't have to face Sarge and Donut. Simmons was hunched over as he walked back to headquarters, which doubled as home.

  Hinges on the door creaked louder than usual and Simmons flinched when Donut skidded around the corner. "How'd it go?" He asked, walking next to Simmons like he'd been there the whole time.

  "I'm gonna get fired then killed." Simmons groaned, sitting on the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. Donut tilted his head and his mouth was pulled into a straight line.

  "Oh Simmons, blood isn't _that_ hard to wash out. Just use a little Tide and Oxy Clean on the stone and-" Donut reassured him before being cutoff by Simmons.

  "I didn't take him out." He mumbled. Silence enveloped the living room that had cases of swords, guns, and various other weapons. Behind a thick case of glass sat Sarge's shotgun, used on special occasions only.

  "What?" Donut exclaimed. "Why not?" He demanded, looking more scared than upset. He glanced towards Sarge's room where he could be heard talking to a Spanish speaking android.

  "He, uh," Simmons refused to meet his associates eyes. "Kissed me." A breathy whisper escaped his lips. Only after he said it his face heated up, all the embarrassment of being taken by surprise like that caught up with him. 

  "He  _kissed_  you?" Donut matched his whisper. Simmons nodded, covering his face. "I thought you said he wasn't cute!" He punched Simmons in the shoulder, much like a brother would. "Did you like it?"

  "No!" Simmons defended. Donut made an are-you-kidding-me-face. "I swear!" Donut didn't change his face. "Maybe I did ok?" He called. The chatter faded from their leaders room. "What do I tell him?" Simmons whisper yelled.

  The door opened and Sarge exited his room to see Simmons and Donut leaned close to each other and heads snapped to look at the older man. "So how'd you kill 'em, Simmons? Poison? Or did you just shoot him!" He asked, sitting on one side of Simmons while Donut was on the other side.

  "He got away, Sir." Simmons looked to the floor.

  "You'll get him next time, then." Sarge assured. Simmons' head snapped up and him and Donut exchanged disbelieved faces. "Donut, find out where we can get him next and you'll go with Simmons." 

  "Y-Yes, Sir." Donut was frozen and both him and Simmons mouths were agape. The door to Sarge's room shut again. "What the hell just happened. Don't worry Simmons, I'll be up this guys ass until I find him!" He snapped out of it.

  "Dear god, Donut, stop with the freaky comments." He face palmed.

  "At least I don't get freaky with the enemy." He laughed. Simmons face heated and he punched Donut'a leg and laughing filled the room.

  "Just don't say anything to Sarge ok?" Simmons begged, giving Donut a small smile.

  "I won't! We can take the blood cleaning mixture when we go and leave all this behind us!" donut swung a friendly arm around Simmons shoulders. Simmons gave a nervous laugh, looking away from Donut'a excitable and animated chatter.

  "I know we will." He murmured to himself. How could they though?Simmons  couldn't even assure him self.


	4. Couldn't Wait to See Me Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm actually sticking with a story for more than two chapters!

  Dexter Grif might have been lazy, but he was sure as hell rich. Considering his new discovery of Grif also being part of a secret agency, this was less than a shock to Simmons. Donut on the other hand, was immensely surprised, staring in awe at the large building before them. "The orange  _needs_ to go, but I'd like to meet whoever built this place." He made Simmons roll his eyes.

  "Thanks for the lesson in architecture, Tim Gun." Simmons sighed. "Don't. I know he's a fashion designer, not an architect." He added, stopping Donut from correcting him. 

  "Well, you should, because you watched Project Runway with me!" His companion cheered. Simmons glanced around when his voice echoed, shushing Donut with a finger to his lips. "Sorry." He whispered.

  Simmons reminded Donut to bring his gun, and his grappling hook nearer to the building. Checking for his own, they hastily approached, the mansion giving off a comforting warmth as apposed to an eerie glow. The hooks made minimal noise as they hurtled into the air, firmly hooking into the tiled roof. "Let's go." Simmons ordered.

  After scaling the walls to the roof, Simmons told Donut to stay and watch the exits. "Nobody in or out, except for me. Don't kill me." He said handing a sniper rifle to the gloved hands.

  "I got your ass. Don't worry." He assured, clicking the safety off. 

  "If I'm not out in two hours, leave. And if anything happens, leave." Simmons patted him on the back. That was always the plan when Simmons and Donut were on a mission. Although he'd never admit it, if Donut died, he'd be more upset than if Sarge did. 

  Simmons crawled into a slightly ajar window, landing on the floor  as quietly as possible. The woman who he'd seen the night before, named Sister, was fast asleep in the bed. He could have sworn there was another body in there too, he shrugged it off as Tucker. 

  He checked in another room and saw a familiar large body, Caboose. He lest the room after taking a glance around and finding nothing but a few toys and children's movies. The door at the end of the hall was doubled and had a sign that had,  _Gruffy_ , written in green sharpie. 

  He let a grin slip onto his face at the silly name and paused at the door. He pressed his ear to the door, hearing soft snoring from inside. The doorknob made no noise as he turned it and the door opened effortlessly. It was seemingly too easy.

  He realized the bed was empty when there was no mound in the covers. "Oh shit-" He began before he was pinned to the Bed on his back. "Fuck." 

  "Nah, it's too late." The man above him teased. "So, couldn't wait to see me again, huh?" He leaned closer, resting all his weight on Simmons' legs and wrists. 

  "In your dreams. I came to kill you." Simmons spat. Grif rolled his eyes and a smirk replaced the cocky  grin he wore a few seconds earlier.

  "How's that working out?" He asked, moving his mouth closer to Simmons ear. "You work for the wrong side, Simmons." He began, before Simmons began to writhe beneath him.

  "Get off, asshole. Your heavy." Simmons gritted his teeth, moving faster to get away. 

  "I've been told. You're moving the bed an awful lot. How bout we do something else to move it?" He whispered in Simmons ear. 

  "Wow, that's it?" Simmons questioned, causing Grif to pull back and quirk an eyebrow. "Your dirty talk, it's terrible." 

  "Oh." Grif sighed, meeting Simmons green eyes. He bit his lip and looked away. "I'm not bad." He whispered to himself as opposed to Simmons. "I'm not." 

  Simmons used his distraction as an opening, kicking Grif off him. The shaking of the ground caused a lamp to fall down somewhere in the room. Footsteps neared the door, but before they arrived, Simmons was gone.


	5. Why Are You FOLLOWING Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like my most liked story! I'm glad people like it! Don't be afraid to comment!

   Simmons didn't go home that night. He found a still operating Pay Phone, and called Donut, told him to head home. "But-" The man began, only for Simmons to hang up on him. 

  He ran a hand down his face, disrupting the placement of his glasses. The sun was rising, dusting the outline of the city in a yellowish pink. Simmons dragged his feet all the way to an almost empty Panera, struggled with the door until a business woman in a black uniform opened it for him.

  She introduced herself as Texas, but insisted he call her Tex. "You look familiar, what's your name?" She asked, stepping in line in front of him.

  "It's Simmons." He said without thinking. Cursing himself mentally, he plastered a small fake smile on his face. Her demeanor changed for a moment, but returned to normal when the woman at the counter asked for her order. "Are you alright?" He asked her. 

  "Yeah, I just gotta use the bathroom, excuse me." She said, setting her food on a near by table. Simmons saw her pulling out her phone and entering the bathroom. After 5 minutes Simmons became anxious, standing up from the chair he was sat in. 

  Then, a voice tickled his neck, "How nice of Tex to buy me breakfast." It was Grif, Simmons could feel a gun being pressed into his back. "Have a seat, Simmons." Though they were alone, Simmons knew that Grif had his team settled around the perimeter of the restaurant.

  "Is everybody in this fucking city on your side?" Simmons asked taking a seat across from Grif.

  He blinked lazily, resting his chin on his hand. "Everybody that I want. Except for you. I want you, Simmons" 

  "You spend too much time with that Tucker guy." Simmons commented, leaning forward to take the bagel off of Grif's plate. 

  "Hey!" The man whined, voice raising an octave. "That's mine."

  "You could stand to lose a few pounds." Simmons commented, Grif made an appalled face. Simmons giggled, covering his mouth. Grif smiled and pushed the plate over to him, stopping the laughter. 

  "What's wrong?" Grif asked nervously. Simmons stood and ran a hand through his hair.

  " _This_ is wrong."  He said. "I'm supposed to have you dead and here I am, having a meal with you." His voice shook slightly. "This didn't ever happen." He assured.

  Grif was standing too now, arms crossed. "Go then," He ordered, looking to the side. Simmons couldn't help but hear the  disappointment  enveloped beneath it.

   Simmons passed Church and Tex who were making out as he left the building. Caboose was pouting outside since he was left with Tucker. Simmons used his cellphone to call Donut this time. 

  "I'll be back by noon, don't worry." He explained Before hanging up again.


	6. My Friends, How Could You?

  Their house was a complete disaster. Especially Donut's room, his bed was in disarray, the vanity flipped over, and spots of blood speckled the floor. Simmons stared on in anger and horror.

  He checked their weapons room next, it was only missing a few guns and a set of keys to their vehicle they called the Warthog. "Lopez?" He called out, hearing no answer he called for Sarge and Donut.

  The phone began to ring from next to him.  He shakily picked it up and whispered, "Hello?"

  "Simmons!" It was Sarge, he never sounded frightened or nervous, but he was annoyed. "Get your ass here, now! I don't know what in Sam Hell they're doing to Donut, but it 'ain't pretty!" He exclaimed before the phone was taken away. 

  "Sarge?" He called, gripping the chair in front of him. 

  "Better hurry, Simmons. When we're done with Pastry over here, we can get to Sarge." Came Grif's voice.

  "You little bitch." Was all Simmons said before Grif interrupted him.

  "You know where to find them. It's where your little friend wouldn't stop giving us advice on." He said. Simmons could hear him rolling his eye and giving a grimace. "I'll see you later, Simmons." He grinned before a click sounded through the line.

  " _God Dammit!"_ Simmons called so loud his voice cracked. He stomped into the weapons room and strapped as many guns onto him as he could. He slipped a knife onto his thigh, and another into his sleeve.  _  
_

* * *

  Simmons looked at the glass doors that were on a balcony on the second floor of Grif's house. He took  a deep breath, entering as quietly as he could. It was quiet and getting in was entirely too easy.

  He moved through the hallways, checking in each room. Then he heard a painful scream pierce the air. It came from a near by door and he sprinted to it. Opening it Simmons was met with a terrible sight.

  Donut was blindfolded, tied to a chair and missing his shirt. Cuts traced onto his torso, he was gritting his teeth. "Donut!"  He called pointing his gun at the person behind him. It was Caboose, standing with his hands held up. A damp towel was in his hands.

  "I was just helping Biscuit!" He defended. Donut groaned, and Simmons could see the blindfold was wet in a few areas. 

  Simmons pulled the cover off and untied his friend. "Simmons?" He asked and flinched when Simmons forced his pink t-shirt over his head. 

  "Caboose, watch Donut. Clean him up, ok?" He asked softly as he could, handing the towel to Caboose, who'd dropped it before. Caboose nodded vigorously and turned Donut's chair around.

  When Simmons found Grif he was draped across a chair in a ridiculous pose holding a gun lazily. "I thought you Wouldn't ever show up." He smiled. Simmons brought his gun up, keeping his face hard.

 "You  _hurt_ him." He furrowed his brows. Grif stood up, walking closer to Simmons, who was swallowing thickly. 

  "I did it so you'd show up, genius."  Grif explained.

  "Why're you so obsessed with me?" Simmons took a half step back.

  Grif shrugged, speed walking into Simmons, backing him into the wall.  He crashed his lips onto Simmons', the latter squeaking in surprise.

  Simmons shut his eyes tight and tried to push him away. His knees were weak, and his brain was foggy. After a moment, he leaned into the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN. NO SIMMONS NOT THE ENEMY! EXCEPT GO AHEAD THATS WHAT WE'RE HER FOR. TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY???? WARNING: CHAPTER AFTER THIS WILL PROBABY BE SMUT. :V


	7. He Isn't Even That Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME EXPLICIT CONTENT. It's not the full on smut stuff but stuff gets pretty steamy.

  Simmons ground his hips into Grif's when he moved forward. They were pressed agains the wall, Grif holding Simmons in place. Grif pulled away, looking at the flushed man before him, who's eyes were half lidded and panting slightly. "Simmons-" He started before the taller man pulled him in again.

  Their lips crashed together, Simmons moaning in the back of his throat. Grif's hands slid from his shoulders down to his hips, dragging them even closer together.  "G-Grif," Simmons whined as Grif trailed light kisses down his chin and neck.

  Grif hummed in response, sending a vibration through Simmons' Skin. His breath hitched and he covered his mouth. "Aw, I like hearing the sounds you make." Grif began pushing Simmons shirt up and over his head. 

  "You're still terrible at dirty talk, you know?" Simmons adjusted his glasses which had gone askew in the removing of his shirt. 

  "You aren't even trying, nerd." Grif said between kisses. He brought Simmons' ear to his mouth, licking the outer shell. Simmons bit his lip, tangling his fingers into the other man's hair.  

  "Grif." Simmons whined. All Grif did in response was start to trail kisses down Simmons long torso, which had a soft pink tint as well as his face. " _Grif._ " He commanded. 

  "What?" He asked and looked up at Simmons face. It was red and tears were forming in his eyes. "Simmons-" 

  "No.  _What is wrong with me?_ " He asked, pushing Grif off him. It caught him off guard, and he stumbled backwards and fell on the ground. "Stop doing that to me!" He spat. He pulled his shirt over his torso again, covering the newly formed marks.

  " _I'm_ not the one who constantly deceives  his team,  _Simmons_." Grif hissed. Simmons was taken aback by the difference in tone. "You don't let anyone do anything for you!" He stood, taking a step toward Simmons.

  Simmons scoffed, grabbing the gun he dropped and heading toward the door, "Sorry I'm not a careless, lazy, asshole who manipulates people to get out of things." He said before glaring as hard as he could.

  "Do you think I just flirt everyone I'm assigned to?" Grif asked, Simmons nodded sheepishly. "That wastes way too much effort, stupid. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." He rolled his eyes. "I thought you were cute so I fucking asked to take the mission ok? You just turned out more complicated than I though you'd be." Grif had a small blush dusting his face.

  "I..." Simmons rubbed the back of his neck. "I hate you, but I also... don't?" He sighed. "I'm just gonna go home." He rubbed his eyes. "Don't kidnap my team again, and if you hurt Donut again, Grif?" Simmons brought his gun to point at the man's head. "I'll murder you." 

   He went and collected his team, eyeing the messy bandaging of Donuts chest. "Where were you, Simmons?" Sarge asked him as they drove back home. 

  "It doesn't matter." 

  "It doesn't matter, what?"

  "It doesn't matter, Sir." Simmons rolled his eyes. He was happy to be home for now.

    


	8. Strictly Not Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Hope you guys like this story as much as I do! ANd oh how cute, they go on a date.

  When Simmons woke up he rubbed his eyes, which were puffy and heavy from sleeping off all of his stress. He was usually an early riser, but it was eleven when he woke up the first time, eventually falling asleep again. His phone blew up with notifications when he turned it on.  

**Missed Call-Blocked (5)**

**New Messages (2)**

**Blocked:**   _Hey Simmons. I think u know who this is._ ** _  
_**

 **Blocked:**   _It's Grif. Can u answer my calls?_

**Blocked:** _I'm sorry. Plz answer me._

**Blocked:** _SIMMONS!!! HELLO??!?_

**Blocked:** _Answer me god dammit._

Simmons rolled his eyes and sat up in bed. He pressed the buttons to call back, not even bothering to listen to the voicemails left. "Simmons!" Grif cheered happily when the ringing stopped.

  "Why're you trying to call me?" Simmons panned, standing up from bed. His room was still immaculate as he'd left it before,  all his clothes still hung on hangers and you couldn't find dust if you tried.

  "I dunno. I'm bored." He mumbled. Simmons could imagine him holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek. Much like Donut did.

  "Well, I'm busy." Simmons defended, ready to hang up.

  "I wanna take you on a date."

  "Excuse me?" Simmons spluttered, eyes widening.

  "A _real_ date. No business. Just you and me." Grif suggested.

  "I-uh-I... You and I?" He asked, a blush coating his face.

  "Now isn't the time to correct grammar." Grif teased, Simmons could practically hear the lazy smile across his face.

  "What? Never mind." 

  "Is that a yes or no?" 

  "I guess-" Simmons started, feeling hopelessly flustered.

  "Great! Where should we meet?" Grif smiled. "You know what, I'll pick you up!" He said before Simmons could interject. "See you soon!" What had he gotten into? He would just have to tell him that he was busy.

* * *

 

  And now Simmons was in Grif's car. Leather seats that were stained with the smell of cigarettes and the unmistakable stench of blood. Grif was a surprisingly good driver, but refused to have the radio on, something about the Spanish station.

  They were in an uncomfortable silence until Grif broke it, "So how'd you tell your team?" He eyed Simmons sideways.

  "I didn't. Sarge would actually murder me, not kidding." He mumbled. He glanced out the window, and heard Grif gasp. "What?"

  " _Put your seatbelt on, Simmons!_ " He ordered, reaching over with his right hand and trying to pull it over his body. 

  "Jesus! Ok!" Simmons responded, clicking the belt in. "You kill people for a living, stupid!"

  "Whatever." Grif mumbled, speeding up again. They arrived at their destination within three more minutes. 

  "A diner? Oh yeah. Food's your forte, right?" Simmons rolled his eyes. 

  "Would you rather go to a shooting range, nerd?" Grif parked the car. "But that would be work related I guess." He smiled, hopping out of the car.

  "Yeah, I guess." Simmons agreed, walking next to Grif towards the building. There was a slight chill to the air. It was quiet and Simmons felt fingers play against his, which caused him to move his hand away. Grif looked away slightly.

  The "date" wasn't great. The chairs were uncomfortable and the food was burnt, but they had each others  company. "It's strictly business after this right?" Simmons asked when they entered the car.

 "Oh. Uh..." Grif looked away. "I don't know if-" He shook his head, and started to drive. That was the last they talked about it. 

  "Bye." Simmons said when he began to exit the car. 

  "Wait!" Grif grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in and pressing their lips together. It felt the same as the other times they'd kissed.

  Except this time, Simmons didn't pull away. 


	9. We Have to Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :):):):):D I love Grimmons like more than life.

  "To what do I owe the pleasure of Simmons calling  _me?_ " Grif's voice crackled over the phone.

  "We need to talk." Simmons said, cutting the man's silly tone down. "Before you say anything-" Simmons began.

  "You're breaking up with me over the phone, aren't you?" Grif asked, cutting him off. Simmons groaned.

  "For the millionth time, we aren't dating." Simmons rolled his eyes, hearing a small 'humph' come from Grif. "And we aren't talking over the phone." He said. "Just meet me at that shitty diner."

  "You can't just take my date idea and call it yours." Grif said matter of factly. Simmons rolled his eyes, but he couldn't suppress a small smile from plastering on his face. 

  "Whatever, fatass." Simmons said before hanging uP. He heard shuffling by the door. "Donut?" 

  The blonde man entered, wearing a sad look on his features. "You can't break up with Grif!" He exclaimed, flipping onto the bed. Simmons sighed.

  "We  _aren't_ dating, Donut."

  "What are you then?" Donut asked, "And don't say, "nothing" He commanded, sitting up and resting back on his hands.

  "I... Don't know, ok? We're supposed to be enemies but- Ugh, this can't go on." Simmons told him, shoving his face into the pillow. "What do I do?" He groaned.

  "Just decide, what do you value more? Work or Him?" Donut asked before standing and strolling out. 

* * *

  They were sat in a booth, Simmons across from Grif. Grif had a love struck look across his features, and was playfully tapping his shoe with Simmons'. Simmons ordered a coffee while Grif refused food altogether when Simmons didn't get anything.

  "What'd you want to talk about?" Grif asked while mindlessly tracing a puddle of condensation from the water Simmons had forced him to get. Simmons froze.

  "Uh, well, I've been thinking-" 

  "I don't want a baby yet, Simmons. And if you want a pet, just no bats and don't let Caboose near it." Grif answered, Simmons couldn't  tell if he was kidding or not.

  "Actually, I don't think we should see each other this casually anymore." Simmons said quickly, Grif's demeanor change slapping his emotions.

  "Ah." Was all he said before standing up from the booth. "I, Ill be back, I just got to uh. Bathroom." He looked sickly and pale. The bags under his eyes becoming more prominent, bags that didn't exist when they'd first met.

  And Simmons waited. He didn't run away this time. He hadnt expected Grif to come back but he did too. "Simmons, I uh, I'll see you later, I guess." 

  "Ok." Was all he said as he watched Grif leave the diner. And then he waited. But Grif didn't call him, didn't text him, and didn't run in and tell him he loved him.

  Then Simmons cried.


	10. Where Did I Go Wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Grif's perspective as opposed to Simmons'. We should just touch base with him ya know?

  Grif held his head in his hands, eyes feeling heavy. Sister ran a gentle hand up and down his back looking sympathetically at her brother. "Grif, at least it's not as bad as your first girlfriend." She smiled weakly.

  He attempted to glare at her with tired eyes, but ended up just whimpering and sinking back into a hunched position. "It's not funny." He sighed flipping backwards onto his bed. He kicked off his shoes and they joined the piles of dirty clothes already there.

  "It's a little funny." Sister said, standing up. "I'll leave you I guess."  She floated out of the room, leaving Grif to himself. 

  He groaned, swiping his phone from off the bedside table. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw a voicemail on the screen. 

   **1 New Voicemail: Simmons❤️**

His heart soared when he put the phone to his ear.  _"Uh, Hi? i just wanted to see if you were alright, I mean you kind of ran away. But I guess that's my fault. I just I'm really confused right now, and I liked our date but I just...ugh."_ The voicemail stopped. Grif couldn't stop smiling. 

  He felt lighter than he ever had. His eyes scanned his room resting on the picture of Simmons he'd propped against the bow tie he wore the day they'd met. A light blush rose to his cheeks, he physically shook his head.

  "You're a schoolgirl if I ever saw one." Church leaned against the doorway. Grif just smiled.

  "He's killing me, Church. I'd give up snack cakes for him." Grif leaned against his window sill. Church raised an inquisitive eyebrow, giving a small smile back.

  "He's just too scared to admit it." Church said, strolling past a rack of weapons. Grif nodded and let out a snort sounding laugh. "No joke, same thing with Tex. And look where we are now!"

  Grif made a face. "That doesn't give me hope." Church frowned, rolling his eyes. "Sorry." Grif snickered.

  "You can be a flirt, but remember your  team, alright?" Church became serious, Grif hesitated to nod. 

  Church left him, and he danced happily for a second, but stopped when he saw Tucker making a face at him through the window. He smiled and listened to the voicemail again. 

  When Grif called him, Simmons picked up. "Hello?" Grif swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. 

  "Were you serious?" He asked.

  "No. I. No." Simmons said. Grif smiled, but wanted to cry after the next thing he said, "but I also don't know about this sometimes." 

  "Ah." Was all he said, looking to the floor. "Do you want to-" 

  "I want to try to- I like you Grif." Simmons whispered. Grif's stomach dropped. He saw the rack of guns and reinvented what Church had said. 

  He thought for a moment. "I like you too, Simmons." Grif knew Simmons was smiling too.

 


	11. The Same?

  Simmons' hands were shaking and sweaty. His fingers were laced with Grif's on top of a metal table usually used in interrogations. Sarge and Church sat on the other side, their teams behind them. Grif's breathing was heavy and labored.

  "So, Grif has brainwashed Simmons into becoming his evil minion." Sarge offered, everyone in the room groaned. 

  "With little respect, I think you're an asshole and can't lead a team for shit." Grif snapped, losing his patience. Simmons punched his arm earning  a displeased whimper from his companion.

  "Maybe it would be easiest in a song-" Donut began, stepping forward.  

  "Maybe we could sing it to him? I like Creampuff's idea!" Caboose jumped next to Church, who just looked like he wanted to kill himself.  "I want to be the piano man." 

  "So I left the hottest Russian babe sitting in bed for this." Tucker crossed his arms. Tex punched his arm, but not playfully at all. "Ow! Don't hate on the things you can't have, baby." 

  "Excuse me?" Church turned around. Tucker grumbled and sunk into the wall. "That's what I thought. Now back to you two." Church ordered, bringing the attention back to Grif and Simmons.  Church sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You morons know what you do for work?"

  "Yes, Sir." Simmons answered. Grif clicked his tongue. "What?"

  "You're too much of a kiss ass. He isn't even your boss." Grif gestured to Church. Church nodded in agreement and made a he's-not-wrong face.

  "You're on opposite sides, it can't work." Sarge commanded.

  Tucker mumbled something that he was asked to repeat. "Vic told me that reds and blues are the same! Ok?" He said.

  "That's impossible, Vic's on our side." Donut laughed before the room went silent. Realization swept over the room and faces of are you fucking kidding me? To faces of pure relief, graced the faces of the assassins. 

  Simmons and Grif looked at each other with a mixture of both faces. "I. We-" Simmons started before pulling Grif in and wrapping his arms around his neck.

* * *

  Vic was shocked when he realized that the Reds and Blues were working together. He turned around to glance at his boss. "This just won't work." He said, southern accent ringing through the darkness. "Take them out." He ordered.

  Vic hesitated, "Yes, Director."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice. The plot is thickening. Things are going. Get hyped.


	12. Happiness Comes In Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW THAT WAS A GOOD EPISODE. :) and who else is really excited that MOGAR is in X-Ray and Vav? This chapter is gonna be more cutesy with them as opposed to story line.

  Grif tilted his head at a sigh that escaped Simmons' lips. "What's the matter? Teacher give you a bad grade?" He teased, fingers wriggling under Simmons hand. 

  "Oh,  _haha._ " Simmons groaned. He scooted closer, leaning his head on his shoulder. "I just can't get rid of this nagging feeling. That someone'a after us." Simmons said pensively. 

  Grif  leaned back, "What?" He asked before laying back on the roof they were sat on. 

  "Nothing." Simmons sighed and laid back with him. Grif turned onto his side and propped his head onto his hand. "What're you doing?" Simmons asked when Grif started to trace Simmons' freckles. His face got warm.

  "Are you  _blushing_? That's so cute." Grif said as Simmons furrowed his brows and huffed. Grif leaned closer and stopped when Simmons stiffened. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, watching the man beside him nod slowly. 

  Their lips met in the softest kiss they'd had yet. Grif placed his hand on Simmons' cheek, which felt like fire. Simmons' eyes were shut tight, and Grif was smiling into the kiss. When they separated, Simmons looked to brown eyes, he saw his own reflection.

  "I'm sorry. What'd I do wrong?" Grif asked worriedly. Simmons  didn't realize he was crying. His response was a High pitched sob. "Simmons? Are you ok?" Grif asked, sitting back up and scooting away.

  Simmons reached out to him weakly, "I'm sorry!" He cried out, dragging Grif nearer to him. He connected their lips again, Grif widening his eyes. He pulled away and whispered, "I love you." He said, Grif froze pushing Simmons away.

  "Y-You do?" Grif exclaimed. "Why would you say that?" He held his head in his hands." 

  "What?" Simmons asked dumbly. 

  "I love you too!" Grif said before jumping onto the same balcony that Simmons had snuck onto a few weeks before. Simmons sat there in silence. 

  Simmons recalled a conversation he had with Donut. "Caboose told me that Grif isn't to keen on feelings." Simmons kept this in mind as he blushed when he realized they'd exchanged, "I love You"'s.

  Simmons couldn't be happier. 


End file.
